The Way We Were
by sbrianson
Summary: Finally reunited, Remus and Sirius try to return to the way they once were. But after thirteen long years in Azkaban, has the damage already been done? Slash.


**"The Way We Were"**

by Stan Brianson

**Pairing**: Sirius Black / Remus Lupin

**Rating**: "M" – for language and implied sexual behaviour.

**Disclaimer**: This story is fictional – that's F-I-C-T-I-O-N. It never happened, and is not real. It is the product of my own imagination. It contains descriptions of male slash (that's male/male homosexual relations). If you do not like this type of content, or if you find homosexuality or its practice offensive, please click the "Back" button or close your Internet browser NOW, and do not read any further. All characters and copyrights are owned by J.K Rowling and Warner Brothers™ (AOL Time Warner), but this story is owned by me and is all my own work.

* * *

_When he pulled me into his embrace, I felt the temperature in the Shrieking Shack rise by ten degrees, before the cold, icy stares of Harry, Ron and Hermione made it plummet back towards a deathly Absolute Zero._

_It was his _touch_. His touch had not lit the fires deep within my heart, but merely stoked those that were still alight; the glowing embers of love from all those years ago suddenly bursting into resplendent orange flame once more. It was all that I could do not to drag him back down onto the floor and ravish him, again and again, as we once did on this very spot._

_I feared that I would be unable to resist. Yet I also _hoped_ that I would be unable to resist him; his arms, his touch, slaying a deep, unquenchable thirst for _him_ deep within my soul. But we cold not – now was neither the place nor the time. For now there were questions to answer, vengeance to seek…_

_And a story to tell…_

_These feelings; all in the blink of an eye…

* * *

_

A year later, Remus woke up with a start. Sat up in an uneasy, still-half-dreaming daze he reached out beside him, to find yet another cold, empty bed. The dream had seemed so real, so _distinct_, yet…

A sharp coughing fit shook Remus out of his sleep-hazed semi-consciousness as his body craved the nicotine he cold no longer justify spending £5 a day just to burn away. Cursing his weak body, which had no will-power to give up smoking, he turned his head to notice a packet of cigarettes on his bedside table. It was full. Deciding that he couldn't cope with nicotine withdrawal on top of an approaching full moon, he took one and lit it, relishing the taste and noticing that this was no cheap, budget tobacco but a good quality, expensive brand. He reached out again, and examined the packet.

Marlboro.

There was a brand new packet of Marlboro cigarettes on his bedside table. Only one person he knew smoked these. He looked down at himself to find that he was dressed in his favourite pair of stripy pyjamas, which meant that he had definitely slept _alone_ last night. So the cigarettes couldn't have belonged to a random one-night stand.

CRASH! Bang! Crash! Tinkle! Roin-roin-roin-a-roin-a-_roin-a_-_SMASH_! sounds from downstairs startled Remus out of bed and he found himself running halfway to the kitchen in an instant, wand poised, before a London posh-end-of-town accent exclaimed

"Fucking hell! Bugger it! Bum-love the effing Vicar!" And Remus grinned broadly to himself, remembering. Only one person in the entire world (or, at least, he _hoped_) had such a talent for profanicating in such an interesting, and indeed _colourful_, manner.

Sirius Black.

Remus leapt the rest of the way down the stairs like a small child at Christmas, and ran into the kitchen. And, just as memory served him, there stood the tall, looming figure of Sirius. Sirius stood, amongst a small pile of shattered crockery and glass, sucking his thumb angrily.

"Damn bloody glass," he said, grinning at Remus. "When it smashes, it sure _smashes_, doesn't it! Bastard stuff flies everywhere!"

"Yeah," Remus chuckled back. "You okay?"

"Of course, my liege! 'Tis but a flesh-wound! It would take far more than a bit of shrapnel from a shattered wine-glass in order to vanquish the mighty Sir Sirius!" he shouted in mock boldness. But it hadn't even taken the small piece of flying glass to get at him, for Remus could plainly see the dampness around Sirius's eyes and the tremor in his hand.

* * *

_Him and me. We'd only ever known each other, truly _known_ each other, in spaces like this._

_The Shrieking Shack._

_The Room of Requirement._

_Always in small, enclosed spaces, where nobody could sneak up on us and discover what we were doing. I knew, or at least I _hoped_, that there would be more to it one day than just little stolen kisses and schoolboy fumblings in the quiet, secret darkness._

Us_. The relationship built in small rooms, ten foot by twelve._

_We'd say we were doing research for the Map. Additions and extra information and stuff, just in case Prongs and Wormtail grew suspicious as to why we seemed to spend as much time as possible in small cubby-holes if they ever checked. Maybe they already knew by that point; maybe they didn't… who knows? Who _cares

_But they were the highlight of my days, they were. _He_ was the highlight of my days. In those small, enclosed spaces, my favourite activity would be to learn every single square inch of his body, and commit its touch to my memory._

_Every single hair._

_Every single texture._

_Every single twitch._

_Every single time, discovering more and more new ways to make him come, just by my touch…

* * *

_

"Sorry about the mess," Sirius said sheepishly after Remus flicked his wand, muttering '_scourgefy_' and cleared the kitchen floor.

"S'okay, Pads. No harm done, eh?" he said. But again, he couldn't help noticing the dampness around Sirius's eyes. Sirius suddenly turned around angrily.

"No, Moony. It's _not_ okay! Here I was, trying to make you a nice breakfast in bed, and I've just gone and… and s-s-spoiled e-everything…" he sobbed.

"Hey there, you," Remus soothed, trying to pull the taller man into a hug. But he didn't notice Sirius flinching at the contact. "There, there. Just let it all out, Padfoot. Shh, now. Shh…" he said, pulling the weeping Sirius closer to him and reaching out to stroke his hair. But no sooner had the werewolf brushed a hand through the heavy, matted locks of the other then Sirius ducked down and exclaimed

"I need a shower. And a shave," as he stroked the beard adorning his once marble-smooth chin. "And a haircut. _Definitely_ a haircut. And at that, Sirius half-walked, half-fled out of the kitchen and up the stairs to the bathroom. The loud _click!_ of the bathroom door-lock echoed through the house as loudly as a parade advertising Sirius's feelings and as quietly as Sirius talking about them.

* * *

_How I used to crave those stolen minutes we had together! From the quick kisses between classes to him easing himself inside be after the seventh-year curfew. I remember that just a smile from him would make me as hard as pig-iron; how him innocently licking his lips (if it were possible for him to do _anything_ innocently!) would make me… well, have a rather embarrassing mess to clean up shortly afterwards._

_Thank God nobody ever asked how I had suddenly become so good at casting domestic cleaning spells!

* * *

_

"Ah!" Sirius sighed, rubbing his hand over his new 'shorn-to-within-an-inch-of-baldness' buzz-cut. "That's _so_ much better! Wha'd'ya think, Moony?"

"Smooth as a newborn's backside," Remus chuckled, reaching out and stroking Sirius's freshly shorn chin.

"Yes, well…" he replied, turning away and clearing his throat. "How did you sleep last night?" he asked, suddenly changing the subject.

"Oh, not bad. I did wonder where you'd got to, though," Remus said, lighting another cigarette.

"All I can say is that couch of yours is remarkably comfortable, Moony!"

"Uh-huh." The werewolf sat down at the kitchen table. "Hey, Padfoot?" he asked.

"Yeah?"

"We are, well, back to how it used to be, aren't we?"

"Of course we are! Why ever wouldn't we be?"

"C'm'ere," Remus called playfully, patting his knee. Sirius, ever the dutiful hound, did as he was told and sat in Remus's lap. The werewolf brushed his hand through Sirius's new haircut and smiled.

"What?"

"I missed you last night, you know," he whispered, kissing him lightly on the forehead.

"Yeah. I know…"

* * *

_Waking up with him in my arms for the first time ever… God! How do I find the words to describe it? Drifting off to sleep after making love to the man of your dreams, and waking up in the morning to find that he's still there – he's still there because he never left, because he never _wanted_ to leave you. That feeling of butterflies flying around in your stomach as you realise that you've spent the best part of six hours using his chest as a pillow only to find that he's tangled his arms around you to use you to snuggle up like a treasured favourite teddy-bear. Of waking up together and battling with the decision of whether to get up and leap into the adventure of the net day with him, or whether to just say 'sod it' and stay exactly where you are for another hour or fifty. Of knowing that the whole thing will get repeated the next night, and the next one, and the next… I can still remember every tiny detail of the first time I ever shared a bed with him – our fourth night after leaving Hogwarts – like it happened but five minutes ago; even during the long, lonely nights after he was taken away from me and I was alone…

* * *

_

"_Et voilà_!" Sirius exclaimed. "_C'est _'_petit déjeuner au boudoir à la Padfoot… er, et Moony aussi_'," he added, blushing. Remus grinned.

"Yes, it was. And it was delicious, too. Did I ever tell you how much it turns me on when you speak French?"

"Only about ten billion times," Sirius sighed.

"Then care to join me?" A devilish grin crept over Remus's face as a plastic one moulded itself over Sirius's.

"You bet," he said, crawling fro where he'd been sitting at the foot of the bed and underneath the bedclothes next to Remus.

"Now, wha'd'ya say about not moving from here until tomorrow morning?"

"Sounds… intriguing…"

* * *

_Ah! Those long, warm days off where we would do nothing but stay in bed and kiss and cuddle, make love, nap, and make love some more! How in our first week of living together we set the ultimate record – twelve times in one day – a total which we never surpassed (not for want of trying!). Although we were always keen to have another attempt…_

_Those days were always the best. Uninterrupted, exquisite, continuous periods of time sharing each other. God! How I miss those days! I used to think that I'd never get to spend another one with him, and it was the worst feeling of my life when, after the first five years, I started to realise that that was probably true…

* * *

_

"Padfoot?" Remus asked suddenly, pulling out. "Padfoot? Whatever's wrong?"

"What're you on about? Why've you stopped?"

"Because you're lying there flinching and wincing, and soft as anything!" Remus replied, grabbing Sirius's hopelessly flaccid penis to emphasize his point.

"I-" Sirius began. "I'm trying, Moony. I really am. I just don't feel very sexy right now."

"I'll bet." The silence between the two men strangled at them with the icy hands of secrets unshared.

"Please," Sirius said, his voice small and timid, a thirty-six year old with the larynx of a scared young boy. "Please don't stop. Keep going." Remus looked at him and snorted.

"Somehow, I don't feel so sexy now, either."

"Well, maybe if I-"

"No, Padfoot," Remus interrupted. "How can I? I mean, how can I touch you if every time I try you flinch away? As if my fingers burn you, you look as if you're in agony, for Christ's sake! If you don't want to do this, then fucking _say so_! Just stop leading me on!"

"I'm sorry…" Sirius sobbed.

"Why on earth are you putting yourself through this, Pads? Eh?" the werewolf made as if to pat Sirius on the shoulder, but thought better of it. Sirius took a great gulp of air and sniffled.

"Because you want it, Moony. You want the sex, the closeness… Don't you remember what it felt like to wake up in someone else's arms? What it feels like to just be _held_? Don't you want that?" Sirius's voice dropped down to a whisper, tears streaking down his cheeks. "_Don't you _need_ that?_"

"Oh, Padfoot," Remus whispered back, his own eyes moistening. "You don't have to do this, you know."

"But I do. Because you need it – don't deny it! And because," he paused. "Because I love you."

"Pads," Remus said. "Did you think that's all I need here? God! It's not about bloody _sex_, you silly pillock! It's _you_… I need _you_…"

"Oh, Moony," Sirius whispered. "Hold me," Sirius openly sobbed and howled, pain mixed with ecstasy as Remus snaked his arms gingerly around his torso and squeezed. "Just… _hold me_…"

_Love… love… love…_

I love you…

* * *

_Three little words, eight tiny letters…_

_I'm supposed to be the brave one, so how come I have never been able to work up the nerve to say it to him before? I think it all the time, "I love you", as I lie here, all alone on a bed of straw, damp walls for a pillow, rotting away in the Seventh Circle of Hell that masquerades as my prison cell. Of how I never told him just how much I love him, and of how it's too late; that he will never know that his name is on my lips with every word I say, that his face is the first thing I see as I stumble out of fitful, unresting unconsciousness every so often because I've already lost all concept of the motion of time._

_And most of all, I miss the way he used to hold me whenever I felt upset or miserable. I wrap my arms around my chest in the hope that I can replicate what it felt like to have him just hold me. But it doesn't feel the same._

_It _never_ feels the same…_

_My every thought is centred on him. Sometimes I try to imagine what he is doing, if he's seeing anybody, if he is happy… But mostly I think about the way we were, and how I'll never again be able to enjoy making love to him, my darling, precious Moony. For with the chance of escape as futile as it is, then the Dementors of Azkaban will surely see it done…_


End file.
